


perfect couldn't keep this love alive

by afire



Category: Legacies (TV 2018)
Genre: F/F, Hanahaki AU, crushes canon underneath my beat up converse, descriptions of coughing/blood, hope n pen best friends forever, no merge because that would've been one too many things to keep an eye on
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-13
Updated: 2019-10-13
Packaged: 2020-12-09 03:26:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20988050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afire/pseuds/afire
Summary: There’s something very quieting about death, the delicate back and forth that she has with it, where some days are better, and others much worse. Penelope likes to think of it as a dance, a courtship.Dying is a lot less terrifying than she had once been led to believe.





	perfect couldn't keep this love alive

**Author's Note:**

> You are strongly encouraged to listen to [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1FbZvDba6ew) song at any time before, during, or after your read.

_"You know that I love you so_

_I love you enough to let you go."_

_ — **Already** **Gone**, Sleeping At Last_

* * *

Penelope likes to think that she’s well-read.  
  
It’s more true than not, even though she rarely shows it. People are surprised when she tells them that she’s acing all her classes, but she supposes she can’t blame them.  
  
It’s not like she goes out of her way to prove anything.  
  
But the truth is, Penelope knows a great many things, and so when the flowers come, she recognises them for exactly what they are.  
  
She is also not surprised.

  
  
✿

  
  
Hope figures it out almost immediately, because she is a girl who has had a lifetime of practice with knowing when someone she loves starts to die.  
  
Penelope doesn’t try very hard to deny it, because there is very little she can deny when Hope walks into her room and sees her pulling tulips from her teeth.  
  
“I’m not telling her,” she says.  
  
Hope doesn’t reply, but she holds out the bin so Penelope can get rid of her handful of petals, and for now, that’s more than enough.

  
  
✿

She doesn’t think about it for too long, the implications. Penelope has gotten very good at compartmentalisation over the years, and besides, she has other things to do.  
  
Hope keeps a close eye on her, always looking for stray petals, making sure she never has to walk into a room that Josie is already in.  
  
Penelope loves her best friend, hates that Hope, who has already suffered so much, has to suffer even more, all because they’ve decided that they matter to each other.  
  
But if this is where it has to end, she’s glad that Hope is the one who’s holding her hand through it all.

  
  
✿

  
  
MG asks if she’s changed her perfume, and when Penelope asks why, he says she always smells like flowers now.  
  
“Just trying something new,” she says, flippant in the way she always is when she doesn’t want to share something.  
  
It’s only after he leaves that she realizes Hope would’ve been able to smell the change too.  
  
Penelope asks about it, later when they’re both sitting in her room, and Hope just looks at her, something very broken in her expression.  
  
It's a sobering thought, the idea of Hope being able to tell just how close she is to withering away forever.  
  
“Sorry,” Penelope says, because there is nothing else.  
  
“Don’t be.” Hope shrugs, lets the ghost of a smile flicker past her face. “It’s comforting, if you can believe it. At least I won’t be surprised.”  
  
Penelope thinks that if love could help her, any love, and not just a specific kind from a specific person, then Hope would single-handedly save her life.

  
  
✿

  
  
Sometimes, when the coughing stops, and she doesn’t have to spend the ten minutes between fifth and sixth period dusting hyacinths off her skirt, Penelope forgets.  
  
It seems impossible, given everything, but between Hope’s horrible jokes and MG’s infectious laughter, she forgets.  
  
This never lasts, of course. Halfway through a sentence, Penelope will interrupt herself with a particularly violent cough, and then the forget-me-nots that dust her lap will be reminder enough.  
  
She starts to keep plants in her room just so she has an excuse for why she’s always covered in petals.

  
  
✿

  
  
“Josie asked about you today.”  
  
Penelope likes that Hope isn’t afraid of bringing Josie up.  
  
“Did she?”  
  
“I don’t think she meant to, she looked surprised about her own question.”  
  
Hope looks Penelope in the eye, seemingly searching for something. Penelope stares back, wholly unafraid of what her best friend may find.  
  
It goes without saying, but right now, Penelope doesn’t think she’ll be able to find someone who knows her better than Hope does.  
  
“Well, did you tell her that I’m doing just fine?”  
  
“I told her that if she wants to know how you’re doing, she’ll have to ask you herself.”  
  
Penelope rolls her eyes, matches Hope’s wry grin with one of her own.  
  
“That seems fair.”  
  
“Doesn’t it?”

  
  
✿

  
  
There’s something very quieting about death, the delicate back and forth that she has with it, where some days are better, and others much worse. Penelope likes to think of it as a dance, a courtship.  
  
Dying is a lot less terrifying than she had once been led to believe.  
  
Still, she has her moments, where everything comes crashing down all at once. Having to come to terms with her own mortality whilst throwing up swathes of catmint is not how Penelope would’ve envisioned her teenage years, but she’s coping.  
  
After all, it could be worse.

  
  
✿

  
  
Hope starts calling her a martyr, always wears that same hollow expression when she says it.  
  
Penelope can’t deny it without lying, and she hates lying to Hope, so she doesn’t.  
  
The truth of it doesn’t really sink in until she has to leave Chemistry of Magic because there are no excuses that will explain away a whole bouquet of chrysanthemums pouring from her throat.  
  
“It just seems a bit unfair,” Hope says, after she’s followed Penelope to the bathroom, barricading the door so that no one else can come in.  
  
“Really?” Penelope asks, the question entirely rhetorical. “Which part?”  
  
Hope doesn’t deign to answer, even as the doorknob caves inside her clenched fist.  
  
They look at each other for a moment, cloaked in heavy silence, then Hope sighs, tension leaving her shoulders as she slumps against the door.  
  
“I love you,” she says defeatedly, voice full of regret, “but you already knew that.” Hope glances up, meets Penelope’s eyes. “I just wish that could save you.”  
  
“I know.” Penelope smiles, ignores the way Hope winces at the blood on her teeth. “Me too.”

  
  
✿

  
  
Hope leaves to run some errands one morning, with strict instructions for Penelope not to die while she’s gone.  
  
“Don’t worry,” Penelope says, a little uselessly, because worrying is all Hope does these days. “Today’s one of the good ones.”  
  
Hope doesn’t look like she believes it, but she has to go, so she bundles Penelope into a hug, drops a kiss to the top of her head, and tells her to stay out of trouble.  
  
“Think you can manage that for one afternoon?”  
  
“I’ll try my best,” Penelope says, grinning crookedly as Hope rolls her eyes in fond exasperation. “No promises, though.”  
  
“I’ll be back by dinner.”  
  
“Okay, love you.”  
  
“Love you, too.”

  
  
✿

  
  
Penelope does, in fact, try her best to stay out of trouble. She’s slowly phased herself out of all the social circles she’d used to run in, and now when she isn’t in class, she’s usually in her room.  
  
It’s easier to hide the fact that there are flowers in her lungs when she’s alone.  
  
The morning rolls slowly onward, and Penelope is surprised by how okay everything is. Breathing is easier than it’s been in days, and she doesn’t have any particularly violent episodes.  
  
She’s just starting to think that maybe she’d been right about Hope not having to worry when a knock sounds at her door.  
  
Penelope frowns as she sits up, waiting to see if the person will knock again. She doesn’t get many visitors these days, other than Hope, who tends to just walk in without announcing herself.  
  
There’s a pause, and then the knock sounds again, and Penelope gets up, thinking that it’s probably MG, sent by Hope to come hang out for the afternoon.  
  
It is, as she soon realizes, not MG.  
  
Josie stands on the other side of her door, and Penelope tries very hard not to keel over and empty a mouthful of asphodels all over the other girl’s shoes.  
  
The silence between them feels loaded, heavy with everything they’ve never said. Penelope leans against the doorframe, in an attempt to at least look like she isn’t dying.  
  
Josie doesn’t smile, though it does look like she’s trying her absolute best to keep her face as emotionless as possible.  
  
“You’ve been avoiding me.”  
  
“No,” Penelope says. “I haven’t.”  
  
“Then why is Hope always so cagey when I ask her where you are?”  
  
Because as much as Hope hates having to do it, especially like this, she’ll protect Penelope until the bitter end.  
  
But Penelope can’t say that to Josie, so instead she asks, “Why do you keep asking her where I am?”  
  
Josie doesn’t answer, but for a split second, the shaky mask on her face slips, and Penelope recognises the emotion for what it is almost immediately.  
  
Josie is worried about her.  
  
Somehow, that makes her angry.  
  
Penelope thinks about Hope, thinks about how her best friend looks at her, like she is something worth saving if they only knew how.  
  
It’s been a while since either of them could look at flowers without a slow, sinking dread, but Hope still waters Penelope’s plants for her, does so without being asked.  
  
They’re in this together, but no matter how grateful Penelope is for that, she also kind of hates herself for it. Because sometimes, it really does feel like Hope is dying too.  
  
She wishes she could slip from this world without dragging someone else down with her.  
  
“Josie,” Penelope says, slow and tired. “Why are you here?”  
  
Instead of answering, Josie says, “You haven’t said a word to me in weeks.”  
  
Penelope does not want to be having this conversation, especially not at the threshold between her room and the hallway, but she pushes it along anyway, if only so it’ll end quicker.  
  
“I’m not going to do this, Josie.”  
  
Josie frowns, obviously confused. “Do what?”  
  
“This.” Penelope gestures between the two of them. “What we always do.” She looks up, not flinching when she meets Josie’s eyes. “You’re trying to pick a fight, and I don’t want to give it to you.” Penelope pauses, then squares her shoulders and continues. “Not anymore.”  
  
She takes a step back, moves to close the door, but Josie pushes too, doesn’t allow it to shut.  
  
“Penelope,” she says, in that all-knowing way. “Are you okay?”  
  
Penelope can’t help but feel a little irritated at the fact that Josie can still read her so well.  
  
She weighs her options, decides that lying to Josie’s face will only make things worse.  
  
“No, I’m really not.”  
  
Josie regards her for a moment, passive and unblinking, then she says, “Hope knows, doesn’t she.”  
  
It’s more a statement than a question.  
  
“Hope figured it out on her own.”  
  
“That seems like her.”  
  
Penelope looks at Josie, tries to find within herself one shred of desire to tell the other girl the whole truth, and comes up short.  
  
“If you’re here to-”  
  
Josie cuts her off, takes a step closer so that she’s now in the doorway, and Penelope is fully in her room.  
  
“Do you think we can be friends?”  
  
Penelope stares at her for a moment.  
  
“Friends,” she repeats, ignoring how the word tastes like lavender in her mouth.  
  
“Yes,” Josie says. “Friends.”  
  
It doesn’t seem like something she should be agreeing to, so of course Penelope says, “I suppose we can try.”

  
  
✿

  
  
Hope returns to find her sitting on the floor in the middle of her room, in a garden of her own making.  
  
Exposure therapy, it turns out, makes everything worse.  
  
“I should’ve brought you with me.”  
  
Penelope looks up, brushes lilies from the corner of her mouth.  
  
“We’re friends now,” she says. “Apparently.”  
  
Hope sits next to her, leans forward to pick petals off of her collar.  
  
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”  
  
“It’s not.”  
  
“Then why did you agree to it?”  
  
Penelope shrugs, doesn’t care that it makes her look a little helpless. It is, after all, nothing that Hope hasn’t seen before.  
  
“Being close to her makes it hurt less.”  
  
“That’s kind of pathetic,” Hope says, meaning, of course, that it is the saddest thing she’s ever heard.  
  
Penelope picks up a handful of petals, lets them shower to the floor.  
  
“Isn’t it just?”

  
  
✿

  
  
“This may come as a shock to you,” Hope starts, closing the door behind her, “but I don’t want you to die.”  
  
Penelope glances up, amused. “Trust me, neither do I.”  
  
Hope is silent for a moment, as if gathering her thoughts, then she says, “You’re very important to me, Penelope.”  
  
Penelope puts her book down, doesn’t bother to save the page she’s on.  
  
“And the thing is,” Hope continues, “I don’t want to lose you.” She reaches to pick the book up, runs her fingers along the spine.  
  
“You’ll never really lose me.”  
  
“I don’t think Josie wants to lose you either.”  
  
Penelope exhales, picks up one of her pillows and hugs it to her chest.  
  
“We all go when it’s time to,” she says. “I’m sorry for leaving so soon.”  
  
“I can’t believe you’re adding one more letter to my list,” Hope says, and it’s almost a joke.  
  
Penelope laughs anyway.  
  
“Bring me flowers, won’t you?”

  
  
✿

  
  
Josie shows up one day, out of the blue, and asks if they can hang out.  
  
Penelope leaves the door open on her way back to her bed, and Josie closes it behind her when she comes in.  
  
“What would you like to do?”  
  
Josie looks at her for a moment, as if confused by the question.  
  
“Well, I thought that you might have an idea.”  
  
Penelope crosses her legs, leans back against her pillows.  
  
“I wasn’t expecting you,” she says, “so I don’t have any plans.”  
  
Perhaps somewhat predictably, Josie takes a single step back, then says, “I can leave, if you’re busy.”  
  
“I’m not.” Penelope rubs a hand across her chest, swallows a cough. “And I enjoy your company, but I won’t make you stay if you don’t want to.”  
  
Josie considers her for a moment, then slowly walks over, takes a seat at the foot of the bed.  
  
“I’ll stay,” she says.  
  
Penelope smiles despite herself.  
  
“Okay.”

  
  
✿

  
  
It seems to take a while for Josie to get comfortable. Penelope scrolls idly through her messages as she waits, makes a mental note to reply to Hope later.  
  
“Pen.”  
  
Penelope looks up, dropping her phone into her lap.  
  
“Yes?”  
  
Josie gestures around the room, at the various plants Penelope has.  
  
“Will you tell me about your flowers?”  
  
Penelope doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry, so she says, “Sure.”

  
  
✿

  
  
After Josie leaves, the moment the door clicks shut, Penelope doubles over, hands on knees, and covers her feet in marigolds.

  
  
✿

  
  
Being with Josie helps in a very perishable way, and Penelope doesn’t know if the temporary bliss is worth it anymore.  
  
She does, however, know that Hope has had enough of watching her torture herself with illusions of what could’ve been.  
  
“Penelope, I need you to listen to me.”  
  
Hope sits next to her, and the warmth of her presence is still a comfort, even after all this time.  
  
“You’re hurting,” she says, voice soft. “This is hurting you.”  
  
Penelope exhales shakily, hands falling limply to her lap. She doesn’t look up, but she knows Hope’s eyes are on her.  
  
“I know you don’t want to hear this, but she’s not good for you anymore.”  
  
Oftentimes, if the truth is going to hurt, it needs to be told.  
  
Penelope closes her eyes.  
  
“Hope,” she says, “it feels like I’m fading away.”  
  
Hope takes her hand.  
  
“I’ll hold on for as long as I can.”

  
  
✿

  
Penelope is not afraid of dying, hasn’t been afraid of it in a long time.  
  
But, and this is something she’s come to realize only recently, in all her apathy, she’s neglected to consider everything she’s leaving behind.  
  
Because Hope doesn’t deserve to lose anyone else, and neither does MG, or Josie.  
  
Penelope had almost forgotten that there are people who will miss her when she’s gone.  
  
She wonders how long she has before all that’s left of her are memories.

  
  
✿

  
  
“Josie said you spoke to her yesterday.”  
  
“Did she?”  
  
Hope takes a seat at Penelope’s desk, picks up a pencil and spins it between her fingers.  
  
“I don’t know what you talked about, she didn’t tell me.”  
  
Hope doesn’t respond for a while, and Penelope doesn’t push, content to wait in silence, if that’s what Hope needs.  
  
“I just feel so useless.”  
  
Penelope doesn’t look up until Hope’s voice cracks, and when she does, her heart breaks almost clean in half.  
  
Her best friend is crying.  
  
“Oh, Hope.”  
  
“I want to save you. I want to save you so badly, but I can’t.”  
  
Penelope gets up off the bed, crosses the room to crouch in front of Hope, reaches up to wipe the tears from her face.  
  
“It’s okay, you’ve already done so much.”  
  
“Not enough,” Hope breathes. “Not nearly enough.”  
  
“No,” Penelope says. “No, you’ve given me so much more than I could even dream of asking for.”  
  
“I don’t hate her,” Hope mumbles, words bubbling as she tries to catch her breath. “I don’t hate her, but nothing about this is fair.”  
  
“I know.”  
  
Hope wipes a hand across her face, blinks past the glassiness of her tears.  
  
“You deserve better,” she says.  
  
Penelope stays silent.  
  
For a moment, neither of them speak, then Hope takes a shuddering breath, slams both feet on the ground at the same time.  
  
“This is such a shitty situation.”  
  
Penelope, surprised by the sudden movement, startles backwards and falls over.  
  
Hope looks at her, then they both burst into laughter, bright and ringing, the first real moment of joy they’ve had in a long time.

  
  
✿

  
  
“Do you remember,” Josie starts, “when I asked if you were okay?”  
  
Penelope glances up, gaze flickering over to where Josie is sitting, on the floor and leaning against the closed door.  
  
“It was a while ago.”  
  
“Yeah, it was.” Josie draws her legs up, hugs her knees. “I was just wondering, are you better?”  
  
Penelope looks back down at the book lying open on her bed, lets a quick smile flash across her face before meeting Josie’s eyes again.  
  
“I’m not worse.”  
  
She doesn’t mention how she thinks she’s long since plateaued at the very bottom of the scale.  
  
Josie is silent for a moment, and Penelope goes back to her book, manages to get through a paragraph and a half before the other girl speaks up again.  
  
“If I asked you what’s wrong, would you tell me?”  
  
If Hope were here, she’d pick Penelope up and walk out of the room, but Hope isn’t here, so Penelope just says, “You know I can’t lie to you, Josie.”  
  
“There’s that, too.”  
  
Penelope lets her silence act as the unasked question.  
  
“You don’t call me Jojo anymore.”  
  
What a dangerous thing to say.  
  
Against her better judgement, Penelope asks, “Do you know why I liked calling you that?”  
  
Josie shakes her head.  
  
“It made me happy.” Penelope looks down, picks at an errant thread in the quilt she’s wrapped around her shoulders. “No one else called you that.” She laughs once, breathlessly and without humour. “I liked being important to you.”  
  
There’s something almost familiar in the way Josie’s expression changes.  
  
“It doesn’t feel right coming from anyone else,” she says. “It never will.”  
  
Penelope winces at the sudden taste of dirt in her mouth, but she smiles anyway.  
  
“Thank you, Josie.”

  
  
✿

  
  
“Pen?”  
  
Penelope pulls herself closer to the foot of the bed, wraps the quilt tighter around her shoulders as she meets Josie’s eyes.  
  
“Yes?”  
  
“What’s going on with you?” Josie asks. “Why aren’t you okay?”  
  
For a question she’s been dreading, Penelope’s answer comes quite easily.  
  
“I’m sick,” she says, and it feels like a weight being lifted off of her shoulders. “I’m dying.”  
  
Josie seems to go through a series of emotions before she finally settles on the one Penelope likes the least.  
  
Worry.  
  
“I don’t-“  
  
“Thank you,” Josie says, cutting her off.  
  
Penelope frowns, confused but not upset.  
  
“What for?”  
  
Josie smiles, slow and sad, leans to the right so that for just one moment, sunlight glances across her eyes and all she can see of Penelope is her silhouette.  
  
“Spending time with me.”

  
  
✿

  
  
Penelope is ripping foxgloves out from between her teeth when she’s hit with a sudden realisation.  
  
As it always is these days, she turns to her best friend.  
  
“Hope?”  
  
Hope, who is busy sweeping stray petals into a pile so that she can throw them away later, pauses in her actions, looks up to show that she’s paying attention.  
  
“I don’t want to die.”  
  
There is heartache in the way Hope puts the broom down, the way she moves closer, the way her voice carries through the air.  
  
“I know, Pen.”  
  
“Can you hold on?” Penelope grips onto her best friend’s hands. “Can you hold on tight?”  
  
Hope pulls, wraps her arms around Penelope, hugs her like if they dare to believe, this will keep her alive.  
  
“Always,” Hope says. “I won’t let go.”

  
  
✿

  
  
Penelope has found that the trick to moving on is to first shed everything that’s holding her back.  
  
Still, there is nothing easy about it.  
  
She doesn’t know how much strength she has left in her, doesn’t even know if she’ll last long enough for any of this to matter.  
  
Hope tugs on her fingers, and when Penelope looks up, her best friend smiles comfortingly.  
  
“You can do it,” she says.  
  
Penelope huffs out a laugh.  
  
“I think I’ve had enough of secrets.”  
  
“I’ll hold on for you.” Hope takes her hand, squeezes once. “I’ll hold on so you can let go.”

  
  
✿

  
  
If she’s thinking about it, Josie always knocks the same way. Twice rapidly, then once more after a short pause.  
  
She hasn’t changed.  
  
Penelope pulls her door open, doesn’t even manage to say hello before Josie is in the room.  
  
“I have to tell you something,” she says.  
  
“Okay.” Penelope shuts her door, turns around so that she can lean against it. “What is it?”  
  
Josie seems to lose her entire train of thought, and for a moment they just stare at each other.  
  
Penelope doesn’t look away, too tired to move, and no longer afraid of what Josie might find in her eyes.  
  
There is nothing there that needs to be hidden anymore.  
  
The silence is broken when Josie lets out a slow breath, then says, “You know, for the longest time, I wasn’t sure if I was actually over you.”  
  
“You are.” Penelope doesn’t mean to interrupt, but the words tumble out of their own accord. “You have been for a while.”  
  
Josie seems more surprised by the interjection than the words themselves.  
  
“How do you know?”  
  
Penelope takes a breath, thinks of Hope’s hands, warm on her own, and knows, somehow, that this is the right moment.  
  
“Because,” she says, “looking at you tastes like springtime.”  
  
And now, she is fresh out of secrets. Now, she is just a girl with flowers in her lungs, and too much love in her heart.  
  
Josie is silent for the longest time, then she steps forward, and, ever so gently, pulls Penelope into a hug.  
  
It is the single most selfless thing she has ever done.

  
  
✿

  
  
Josie doesn’t leave immediately, though she doesn’t say anything else either. Penelope lets the silence pull taut before she starts speaking.  
  
“You wanted to tell me something,” she says. “Do you still?”  
  
They’ve moved from their previous spot in front of the door. Penelope’s on her bed, legs crossed underneath her, and Josie’s sat across from her.  
  
She seems to contemplate the question for a while, then says, “Not right now.”  
  
Penelope nods, doesn’t push any further. “Whenever you’re ready.”  
  
Josie lets a smile flicker across her face.  
  
“I know.”

  
  
✿

  
  
“We’re going out.”  
  
Penelope looks up to find Hope standing in her open doorway.  
  
“Are we?”  
  
“Yes.” Hope crosses the room in two steps, reaches to gently pull Penelope up and off the bed. “We both need some sunshine.”  
  
Penelope follows without complaint, waits ‘til they’re halfway through the school and almost at the main doors before asking, “Think I’ll photosynthesise?”  
  
Hope’s only reply is a smack to her shoulder.

  
  
✿

  
  
They end up at the lake.  
  
True to Hope’s word, the sun is out.  
  
Penelope sits on the grass by the shore, closes her eyes, and lets the breeze wrap around her.  
  
The world is quiet today, just how she likes it.  
  
Hope lies down next to her, ankles crossed and head cushioned by her arms. She doesn’t say anything, but the soft melody she hums drifts idly around Penelope, a quiet comfort.  
  
The day passes with familiar ease, and by the time they return, the sun has dipped beneath the horizon.  
  
Hope lingers in Penelope’s doorway, posture loose and open. “No flowers today?”  
  
Penelope pauses, then takes a deep breath, doesn’t choke halfway through it.  
  
“Huh,” she says, equal parts unbelieving and relieved. “No flowers today.”

  
  
✿

  
  
Like most matters concerning life, and death, and the tipping of the scales, it doesn’t happen all at once.  
  
Penelope doesn’t really notice the change until it’s occurred.  
  
Comprehension dawns on a slow, balmy morning, just as she finishes the glass of lemonade Hope had procured for her.  
  
It has been exactly thirteen days since she’d last spoken to Josie. The sun hangs low in the sky as Penelope looks down at her feet and realises that the floor of her room is clean.  
  
She sets the glass down on her desk, then stands very still, and waits.  
  
When nothing happens, Penelope picks up her phone, and calls Hope.

  
  
✿

  
  
“I thought it was just my imagination.” Hope’s voice is quietly tentative, cautiously bright. “Are you absolutely sure?”  
  
“Watch.”  
  
Penelope takes a breath, purposefully slow, mentally counting out eight equal beats for both the inhale and exhale.  
  
Hope looks like she doesn’t dare to believe it. “But you’re not,” she trails off, as if gauging Penelope’s reaction. “You’re not,” she says again, more confidently this time.  
  
The absence of one thing doesn’t always mean the presence of another, but this has always been a matter of absolutes. Penelope knows this, and Hope does too, which is why it is so difficult for either of them to voice what they’re thinking.  
  
Some things, once they’ve been said, can never be taken back.  
  
“What happens now?”  
  
“Nothing at all.” Penelope turns to her desk, picks up the empty glass and holds it out to Hope. “Except maybe you can bring me some more lemonade.”  
  
Hope blows out a breathless laugh.  
  
“Sure,” she says. “I would love to.”

  
  
✿

  
  
It is a bright sunny afternoon when Josie comes knocking once more.  
  
Penelope is watering her flowers when the familiar rhythm carries through her room.  
  
“Hello,” she says when she opens the door.  
  
“Hello.” Josie smiles, soft and real. “Can I come in?”  
  
Penelope steps aside, a silent invitation.  
  
When she turns around, after closing the door, Josie is already looking at her.  
  
“I love you,” Josie says, quiet but happy. Then she laughs, light and free, and adds, “Again.”  
  
And, even though she’s been expecting this, Penelope still feels a blanket of joy settle over her. Because despite everything that’s passed between them, Josie is still warm and familiar, still as much of a comfort as she’s always been.  
  
But, and Hope would be proud of her for acknowledging this, Penelope is nowhere near ready. Not for something she’s never known how to protect, for something she’s only ever torn apart. So she smiles back at Josie, but doesn’t move to step closer to her.  
  
Instead, she says, “Will you wait?”  
  
Josie doesn’t waver at all.  
  
“Of course.”

  
  
✿

  
  
Penelope walks into her room to find Hope already there.  
  
“Did you bring me more lemonade?”  
  
Without looking up, Hope tosses a pillow over. Penelope plucks it out of the air, ambles over to her bed and lies down next to the other girl.  
  
“Honestly, I was going to,” Hope says, after an extended silence. “But it’s probably for the best that I didn’t.”  
  
Penelope lifts the pillow up in front of her, considering it for a moment before tucking it under her head. “How so?”  
  
Hope goes quiet, and it is a while before she speaks again. “Josie was in there,” she says, finally. “She was talking to her sister, I didn’t want to interrupt.”  
  
“So you listened in.”  
  
“Are you really taking the moral high ground right now?”  
  
Penelope laughs. “No,” she says, poking a finger into the space beneath Hope’s ribs. “I wouldn’t. Not with you.”  
  
Hope huffs, more fond than exasperated. “Good,” she says. Then, after a pause, “I just want you to be happy.”  
  
“I know.” Penelope takes her hand back, dropping it onto her stomach. “So, what do you want to tell me?”  
  
“Lizzie still doesn’t trust you.”  
  
Penelope allows herself a small smile at that. “I don’t blame her. She just wants Josie to be happy.”  
  
“That is not a goal you disagree with.”  
  
“It’s a goal I’ve endangered before.”  
  
Hope lets out a slow breath. “Penelope,” she says, “you are not the girl you once were. And neither is Josie.”  
  
“That doesn’t change the past.”  
  
“Yeah, but nothing can.” Hope stretches an arm up above her, considers the lines on her own palm. “And anyway, it’s not the past that needed changing.”  
  
“Enlighten me, then.”  
  
Hope laughs, quiet and breathless. “I don’t have to,” she says. “You already know.”  
  
Penelope sighs, closing her eyes. “She fought for me.”  
  
“Glad to hear it.” The smile in Hope’s voice is clearly audible. “Now it’s your turn.”

  
  
✿

  
  
Hope is right, as she usually is when it comes to matters such as these. Sometimes, Penelope thinks her best friend knows her too well.  
  
It’s been a while since she’d last knocked on this door, but it still swings open for her, as easily as it had before.  
  
Everything about this moment is different, and yet it still rings with a terrifying sort of familiarity. The truth is, no matter what happens, they will always just be two girls on either side of a door.  
  
Penelope steps through it.  
  
“I love you too,” she says, because it feels like something that needs to be said. A handful of words that need to exist between them. “But I’m still afraid.”  
  
Josie’s voice is entirely devoid of judgement when she asks, “What are you afraid of?”  
  
And it is not something that Penelope has ever said out loud before, but Josie is asking, and she will not lie.  
  
“Not knowing how to love you.”  
  
Josie just looks at her for a moment, then huffs out a single, airy laugh. “Is that it?” she asks, laughter fading into a smile. “Do you really think you don’t know how to love me?”  
  
Penelope stays silent, gaze trained on the ground. Josie reaches out to take her hand, tugging gently so that she looks up.  
  
When Penelope finally does, the look on Josie’s face is impossibly kind. “Pen,” she says, “for the longest time, you were the only person who knew how to love me.”  
  
“Jojo.”  
  
Penelope’s voice cracks halfway through the word, and she doesn’t realise she’s crying until Josie reaches out to wipe the tears off her face.  
  
“I’m right here, Pen.” Josie’s hands are warm on her cheeks. “I haven’t always been. But I’m here now.”  
  
“I don’t-“ Penelope chokes on the second half of the sentence, takes a deep, shuddering breath before she continues. “I don’t want to mess this up. I can’t mess this up.” She blinks through the tears, tries to focus on Josie’s eyes. “We both deserve better than that.”  
  
“You have never messed things up,” Josie says quietly, voice soft and gentle. “We just didn’t understand each other back then.” She laughs once, almost self-deprecating. “I didn’t get you at all, it just seemed like you were constantly picking fights. But you were also the only person who ever properly listened, it confused me so much.”  
  
“I didn’t get you either,” Penelope mutters, and her voice is muffled by the tears, but Josie still hears her, loud and clear.  
  
“You loved me in the exact way that I needed to be loved; I just wasn’t ready for what that meant.” Josie lets her fingers fall away from Penelope’s face, reaching to hold her hands instead. “There were certain parts of myself that I really didn’t want to acknowledge, and it was easier to just push them down. You saw right through me, and it was terrifying, the way you could just look at me and see everything I was trying to hide.”  
  
“I think I saw through you too well.” Penelope takes a breath, anchors herself to the feeling of Josie’s hands in hers. “I was so caught up in the idea of wanting to make you stop hiding that I forgot it’s not my place to do that. If you were ever going to look at the parts of yourself that you’ve locked away, it would have to be on your own terms. I pushed too hard, and I ended up pushing you away too.” She smiles, watery and sad. “I don’t blame you for falling out of love with me.”  
  
Josie’s honest, open expression crumples for a moment. “I know there’s nothing to apologise for, but I still feel guilty.”  
  
“It’s nothing that we can change,” Penelope says, paraphrasing Hope’s sentiments. “Like you said, we didn’t understand each other back then. All we can do now is try to be better.”  
  
Josie smiles, a caricature of trust and happiness. “I know who I am now.” She tightens her grip on Penelope’s hands. “Or, at the very least, I’m on my way to knowing. No more hiding.”  
  
“No more overstepping.” Penelope matches Josie’s grin. “I shouldn’t try to force my way into situations I don’t belong in. Sometimes, all someone needs is for me to be there for them.”  
  
That is, after all, exactly what Hope had done for her.  
  
Josie takes a tiny step forward, bringing them closer together. “Well,” she says, “here we are.”  
  
“Here we are,” Penelope echoes. She pauses for a moment, trying to gather her thoughts. “Hey, Jojo.”  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“Do you want to try again?”  
  
Josie exhales into a laugh, moves to tug Penelope even closer.  
  
“I would love nothing more.”

  
  
✿

  
  
Summer arrives, as it is wont to do, with a flurry of unusually warm afternoons. Instead of attempting to brave the weather, Penelope cracks a window open and elects to stay in her room.  
  
Josie spends the day with her, busying herself by tidying things up. Penelope keeps telling her to just sit down, but she waves the concerns off, goes back to categorising the bookshelf.  
  
“Your daisies are doing well,” she says, after a while. Penelope looks up to find Josie lingering by the window, obviously having just finished watering the flowers that line the sill.  
  
The air is hot enough to be uncomfortable, but a cooling spell hangs from the corners of Penelope’s room, and she doesn’t really feel the heat as she stands to walk over to where Josie is.  
  
She hadn’t been sure if her flowers would be able to survive the summer, but it looks like Josie is right.  
  
“Thanks for taking care of them,” Penelope says, turning from where she’d been inspecting her little collection of pots. “You don’t have to.”  
  
Josie just looks at her for a moment, then she smiles, soft, and slow, and honey-sweet. “You’re welcome.” She reaches to wrap her arms around Penelope’s shoulders, pulling her into a hug and squeezing tight. “I love you.”  
  
Penelope laughs, the sound braided with both shock and delight. “I love you too,” she says, hugging back just as tightly. “You make my world quiet.”  
  
They are nowhere near perfect, and will probably never be, but everyday, Penelope tries her best to be good for Josie, and Josie does the same for her.  
  
Love isn’t easy. It’s not convenient, or effortless, or straightforward. But loving someone, and being loved in return, is the purest joy Penelope has ever known.  
  
“Hope will probably be here soon,” she says. “I think she wants to go get ice cream.”  
  
Josie takes a tiny step back, as if she knows she has to let go, but really doesn’t want to. “It’s really hot today.”  
  
“You can stay here, the spell won’t wear off until sunset.”  
  
“No, I’ll come with.” Josie sighs, takes another, slightly larger, step back, looks around the room in search of her shoes. “I haven’t seen Hope in a while.”  
  
Penelope stays where she is, watching as Josie paces around. “Because you’ve been holed up in here with me.”  
  
“I like spending time with you.” Josie floats over to the other side of the bed, triumphantly unearthing her sandals from the pile of blankets that had fallen to the ground. “Where’d you put yours?” she asks, holding the shoes up.  
  
“There.” Penelope points over to the door, where her own sandals are neatly lined up. “I didn’t just toss them wherever,” she says.  
  
Josie humours her with a dry laugh. “Very funny.” She comes back over to where Penelope is standing, reaching to take her hand and tug her toward the door. “Come on, we can meet Hope outside.”  
  
Penelope lets herself get pulled along, only pausing momentarily to slip her own shoes on.  
  
“Want to split a double-scoop?” Josie asks. “We can get a waffle cone.”  
  
“Yeah,” Penelope says. “I’d like that.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'd like to extend a massive thank you to everyone who followed this fic when it was being posted, bit by bit, on my Twitter. It started out as a funny little experiment, and somehow grew into something much bigger than I ever anticipated. Thank you for putting up with my nonsense, and letting me do something so absurd, I wouldn't still be writing if no one read my work, so I'm only here because you are.
> 
> This is probably the last you'll see from this universe, as far as full fics go, because I think I've written Pen and Josie into a good place, for the both of them. I'm really happy with the development I've managed to tease out in this piece, and I hope the ending is as emotionally fulfilling for you as it is for me.
> 
> You can find me on [Tumblr](https://taylorswift.co.vu/) or [Twitter](https://twitter.com/scorpiowaltz), where I am always happy to hear from you guys.
> 
> Until next time, catch ya' on the flipside!


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